Page 118 of Fe
Fen wrote it all out, then sent the order on Ripley’s account. It was so expensive! He wanted to give Ripley something towards the cost. Fen didn’t want him to object. Delivery would be before eleven tomorrow. For the items he needed to make today, he’d have to go out and buy what he needed.
So far, he’d managed to resist looking in Ripley’s box of things from his mother’s. But before he went shopping, he sat down for a coffee and happened to sit right next to the box,andthe top was part openandit didn’t take long before he gave in to temptation. Though he did make a mental note about putting things back in the same order.
The contents almost broke his heart. At the top were things to do with Alejandro—a lot of photos and other bits and pieces. Fen didn’t go through those. But the rest… It felt as if Ripley’s mother was ridding herself of everything she’d ever had do with Ripley. Speech day programs, school reports—fuck he was clever—certificates for exams, medals for tennis, skiing, swimming, a project on Iceland, done when he was nine, paintings he’d drawn, essays he’d written…
There were photos of him at school, ones of him with his dad, a couple with his mum. Ripley wasn’t smiling when he was with her. Had she taken the ones of him and his father? Because the ones with his dad… Fen’s throat closed up. Ripley looked so happy. Him and his father building a dam across a stream, eating ice cream, playing cricket in the garden, on a sail boat, on the beach… Then the happy pictures stopped. Well, family photos stopped and there were ones of Ripley growing older in a school uniform. Not smiling.
Fen found three envelopes addressed to Santa. He opened up the first expecting to see a list of things Ripley wanted but that wasn’t what he read.
Dear Santa
I am very disapointed. I know you work hard but I only asked for one thing. I want my daddy back from heven and when I woke and he wasn’t there I cried. Can you bring him back now please or do I have to wait until next Chrissmas?
Thank you
Ripley Belmont age 8
PS thank you for the football, though I don’t like football
Dear Santa
I’m sorry for complaining last year that you didn’t bring back my daddy. I understand now that you can’t. He has to stay in heaven. But you could have left a note to tell me. This year I asked for a robot and some space Lego. Remember? You left two books that I have on my bookshelf already and a itchey jumper. I don’t want to sound ungrateful but you can take them back to give to someone else. Until last year, you always bought me SOME things I asked for so what’s changed? I have been a good boy.
Yours sinceerly
Ripley Belmont age 9
Dear Santa
Another complaint. Are these letters getting to you? This year I asked for a marble run and space Lego. AGAIN! You left me a chess set and shoes. I have been good. Please read my letter!
Yours sincerely,
Ripley Belmont age 10
PS If you’re real, prove it. If you don’t reply, I won’t write again.
Fen carefully put everything back into the box and arranged the lid just as it was. He had to sit for a while until he was sure he wasn’t going to cry. He was a little surprised Ripley had still believed when he was ten, but then Fen understood the need to hang on to what made you happy. There were some things Fen could put right. Most, he couldn’t. But he went shopping.
Before he went to the supermarket, he walked up the high street. The shop windows looked so pretty, many of them decorated by stencil art: Santa on his sleigh, deer in a wood, polar bears, trees… Fen would have loved to have sprayed designs on Ripley’s windows. Stencilling didn’t require much artistic skill. But…Ripley wouldn’t like it.
He couldn’t help wondering if Ripley was really going to his mother’s. His relationship with her wasn’t good. Why would he evenwantto go there over Christmas? Still, it didn’t matter. Ripley didn’t want him around.
By the time Fen went into the supermarket, he was already carrying too much. He’d get an Uber back.
Fen spent the afternoon baking while he listened to Christmas music. His mum had enlisted his help on several occasions when she’d had big orders from the café. Fen had chosen to make things he could do well and made a chocolate roulade filled with whipped cream and toasted hazelnuts, and almond cheesecake meringue nests he’d put together tomorrow and the same with a caramelised walnut and coffee pavlova. He also made lots of nibbles: cheese straws, ginger chicken meatballs, honey mustard sausage rolls and baby crabcakes. More ingredients would arrive tomorrow, but for things quick to make.
By the time Ripley came back, everything was in containers or the fridge, the kitchen was pristine, and the Christmas music was off. Dinner was going to be sausages and home-made gnocchi, with pesto sauce and sage butter. Fen had baked some sage leaves to sprinkle on top.
“What can I smell?” Ripley came up behind him and pulled him back against his chest.
“Sage?”
“And?”
“I’ve made all the desserts and some of the nibbles for the party. I can make the rest tomorrow when the delivery arrives.”
Fen didn’t think it was his imagination that Ripley tensed.What have I done wrong?He turned round. “What is it?”
